


Oh Darlin', What Have I Done?

by Ithika



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Letters, Mary Gillis Linton Defence Squad, Mary Sue, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithika/pseuds/Ithika
Summary: A younger Arthur Morgan writes a letter he never sends.
Relationships: Mary Gillis Linton/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Oh Darlin', What Have I Done?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Oh Darlin' What Have I Done" by The White Buffalo. One shot for now, though I may add more following the general thrust of the lyrics in the future :)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated! (In this house we love & respect Mary)

_Mary,_

_I killed a_ _boy today._

The woods were dark and quiet, all but for the small fire that cracked and popped in the crisp, cool night. A man sat beside it, hunched over a journal, pen in hand. He tore the page he’d been working on from the book, and committed the page to flames. 

His scowl deepened, as did the sick feeling that had settled in his gut. Not liking the words didn’t make them any less true. He takes a deep breath, and somewhere nearby in the dark, a horse stirs. The hound wakes and moves to his master, tail held low but wagging as he approaches to rest his head on the big man’s lap. 

Arthur rubs Copper’s ears, then begins again. 

_Mary,_

_I killed a boy today. He weren’t no older than I was when Dutch took me in. I didn’t realise--_

He strikes those last three words violently from the page, then stops to hold his head in his hands. _'Don't make no damn difference. Woulda shot him dead if I knew he was a boy all the same. It was him or me.'_ The thought brought him neither pride nor comfort. No, heavy, sick knot in his gut only tightened. Rubbing his eyelids roughly with coarse fingertips, he forces himself to take up the pen once more.

_Ain't nothing good about it, what I done. You was right not to join me, Mary._

Bitterness rises as a tightness in his throat. Eyes stinging suddenly, Arthur scrawls the last words carelessly. His normally controlled and elegant cursive degrading into little better than hen scratchings. 

_I hear you was wed some three months ago now. I sure hope he treats you proper, and is a better man than me._

_'What a damn fool I was to leave her. All for something that weren't even true, in the end. I ain't better than nobody. I'm worse.'_ The coonhound whines as Arthur snaps his journal shut, standing abruptly to kick dirt over the little fire. Flames surge, then die. The woods are silent once more, and Arthur silently mounts his horse and returns to the gang. 

  
  



End file.
